


My Steady, Systematic Decline

by Tennyo



Series: In Dreams [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, all aboard the pain train, effects of the Mark of Cain, episode 9x22, episode 9x33, season 8 flashbacks, secret blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2293256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Tennyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean continues to change under the effects of the Mark and Blade.<br/>Castiel tries to keep his shit together.<br/>Sam worries about everything.<br/>In general, things that happen in, around, in-between, and just after the scenes of episodes 9.22 and 9.23<br/>It's semi-canon compliant, so expect to deal with pretty much the same scenarios.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, Reader.  
> I decided to try to wrap up the last of Season 9 so I could get started on my new storyline. Unfortunately, I’ve been plagued with a bout of lethargy and lack of creativity. Hopefully I’m back on track, I really need to finish this before October.
> 
> As usual, thanks to my lovely beta readers Molly & Elizabeth for finding typos, things that don't make sense, and bad grammar!
> 
> Title is from "Gave Up" by Nine Inch Nails.

Dean has been interviewing angels for most of the afternoon, and he’s getting frustrated. None of them seem to know anything -big surprise- and he feels like he’s getting nowhere. This would be so much more interesting if he could use more… persuasion. After another useless dick-minus-the-wings leaves, he leans back in his chair and rubs his face.

Jesus Christ, what has Cas got himself into now? He knows angels don’t do well with the free will thing, and this seems exactly like something they’d end up doing to prove themselves to their “Commander”. Whether Cas is actually directly responsible or not, this is a huge problem. He remembers when Cas worked with Crowley, and hid from them that he was trying to open freaking Purgatory. And then there was the whole Naomi-angel-tablet thing. It’s been difficult to really trust Cas since then. But then it’s not like Dean hasn’t has his own range of shady deals going on lately.

He feels the Mark on his forearm, itching and pulsing under his sleeve. Killing Abbadon… did something to him. He remembers the power, the rush, and before that, the control he had over the Blade to draw it to him by will alone. Yeah, he’s changing, he’s not  sure he’s even still human anymore. But there’s work to be done and he’ll worry about all that after he finishes what needs to be finished.

Another angel comes in, and she sits down in front of him. Why is it that so many angels ended up in attractive vessels? She’s got the whole dark and mysterious beauty thing going for her, even if her vessel is beginning to age a bit. And this one is smart too, a doctor. She’s also a bit snooty, as expected, with the whole 18-syllable-long-name bit. Oooohhh, good for you, Flagstaff, You’re so special having such a long freaking name. When the bitch gets on him about what helping people really means, it sets him off. Yes, he’s a killer, but it’s because he’s done all that killing that people like her can continue to deal with the ordinary shit that people like to call real life. He, and others like him, make sure that for the rest of the world, the bogeyman is just a “myth”.

“I _hate_ men like you.”

That does it. He has her pinned to the floor with an angel blade to her throat before she can do anything else except quake in fear. Yeah, that’s right bitch, who’s got the power now?

“Honey, there ain’t no other men like me.”

And ain’t that the truth? The Mark of Cain whispers to him in his blood, urging him to press, draw blood, bathe in the light of her dying Grace. But he needs answers, and he’s going to get them. Sure enough, she gives him two names. The second surprises him. Tessa? Wait, reapers are angels too? He lets the angel go, shaken but otherwise unscathed. He’s being downright generous.

It doesn’t take long to track down Tessa, and he confronts her outside of a showing of Jesus Christ Superstar. What angel would wanna watch that? Seems like riding the edge of blasphemy for one of them, but hey, they gotta get their kicks somehow.

Tessa tries to blow him off, but when he grabs her, he can see the edge of the bomb symbol carved into the flesh below her shoulder. He doesn't understand, how can she be caught up in all this? She was always one for the damn rules, never bending. Now she’s going around killing people? When she grabs him back, he slaps a special handcuff around her wrist and slams her against the wall.

“Where’s the other one? Where’s Constantine?”

She snarks back at him, so he slaps the other handcuff on her and drags her to the impala. Once inside, he pulls out an angel blade and yanks her collar open, exposing the bomb sigil.

“Careful there, you wouldn’t want me to go off, would you?”

He sneers at her, wanting so badly to bury the blade up to the hilt in her gut. But right now he needs answers. Answers he’s not going to get sitting in an alleyway in the middle of nowhere. He should take Tessa back to Cas’ home base, interrogate her there. But first, he needs to deal with the flash-bang carved into her. Slowly, and perhaps enjoying it a bit too much, he scrapes at the skin, ruining the mark. Just in case, he carves a new line into it, remembering something Gadreel once told him about angel sigils.

_Alter a sigil... even the slightest... Alter the spell._

He just hopes he hasn’t made it worse. When he gets back to Cas’ base, he calls Sam. As soon as Sam picks up, he follows his first instinct to ask about Cas. He acts nonchalant about it, but he can’t deny that he’s worried that the damn angel is gonna do something foolish again. After letting Sam know he’s got Tessa with him, he asks Sam how they’re doing on their end.

Sam says they’ve found an old warehouse that could possibly hold what they’ve been trying to find, an entrance to Heaven. That’s great and all, but he’s got a reaper to torture. After a quick update, he hangs up and brings Tessa inside. The other angels act surprised to see her, and she clams up, refusing to speak for herself, at least until she does the whole creepy cult speech about there being “only Castiel”.

While he’s dragging her into the interrogation room/holding cell, the brown haired angel… Hannah? bitches about giving Tessa just a little scratch. Yeah, no thanks for stopping the bomb, just see what he had to do to get it done. And now they won’t let him in to interrogate unless he gives up the an angel blade. Just great. Damn Flagstaff’s probably been telling everyone how he shook her up a bit. And then Hannah spews some ridiculous shit about rules, and how “there's only one person who can punish her”. Dammit, how’s he supposed to get anything done with these damn bleeding hearts keeping him from doing his job? And of course, now there’s a freaking audience. Flagstaff stands there with a smirk when he hands over the blade. Oh, how he’d love to wipe that damn expression off her face.

_Focus, there’s still work to do._

*****

Sam and Castiel enter the building that took an interesting play on words to open. While Metatron may have given him access to Human literature, he still has a hard time interpreting it. Of course the scribe would enjoy locking up the doorway to Heaven behind a door that can only be opened by uttering something carefully phrased. Only angels can read the riddle, and it would take human knowledge to decipher the answer. As they explore the dark halls, he thinks about homophones and how a number could consume another. Sam asks if he’s okay with not going back to deal with Tessa, but he has to know if this is what they’ve been looking for. If it is, they can come back later.

Before Sam even calls out to stop him, Castiel can feel the movement of something behind the walls, has already felt the rush of air as circular blades spin up to velocity. He ducks before the blade swipes over his head, and after the sweeping motion subsides, he maneuvers around the large sawblades that would have sliced the inattentive in half. Ahh, another pop-culture reference, but a deadly one.

After several hallways, they finally turn a corner and see a door back-lit with a bright, holy light. He can feel the power coming from it, and it has to be what they’re looking for. They have finally caught a break in all this, and perhaps they can soon focus on how to keep Dean from completely being corrupted by the Mark of Cain. Excited at the opportunity to avoid more bloodshed and ending the war early, he rushes forward, ignoring Sam’s protest to wait.

When he opens the door, he finds instead a room decorated in poor taste for a party of some sort. He doesn’t understand. Why would Metatron go through such lengths to set all this up? It seems so… juvenile. And poor Josiah. He wants to heal him, offer comfort. But the words the damaged angel says to him cuts straight into Castiel’s heart, bringing to light all of the doubts he has about himself. What is he, really? After everything he’s done, can he ever truly be an angel again? The point is moot since he doesn’t have long to exist anyway. This Grace won’t last forever. He looks at Sam as Josiah exhales his last breath. Sam says they should burn the body, hunter-style, then head back to the base. With sorrow in his heart, Castiel helps him prepare.

*****

This day is now officially full of suck. At first, Hannah insisted on witnessing Tessa’s interrogation, but Dean soon had to escort her out of the room because Tessa knew exactly which buttons to push. It’s really starting to look like Cas did send the angels out, and that’s not good. Cas came to her personally? Shit, fuck. He’s gotta get to the bottom of this, and he can’t do that with an angel watching his every move.

After he has Hannah calm enough to be in front of the others without freaking them all out, Dean leads her out into the main room and sits her in a chair.

“Look, she’s purposefully pushing your buttons in there, and I can’t get any intel like this. I gotta go back in there alone.”

That damn angel in the red suit speaks up from behind him.

“You’re still doing it without a blade.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Dean says, “Whatever.” He has other ways of getting what he needs, and they won’t require an angel blade.

“So you gonna let me back in there to find out what I need, or are we just sitting around with our hands in our pockets?”

Flagstaff starts, “We should wait for—”

“Go,” says Hanna, staring up at Dean. “But only speak with her. Castiel should be the one to choose what happens to Tessa, but you are correct, we need to find out what’s happening.”

He can see the seeds of doubt in her eyes, and he knows this isn’t good. Pulling her to the side, he whispers, “Don’t tell anyone else what you heard, this needs to kept under wraps until we get to the bottom of it. Understood?”

She nods, and he turns back to the others watching. They all stare at him with a mix of apprehension and worry. He knows none of them will get very far with Tessa, so he’s gotta be  the one to try and do this. Deep down, he feels that worry and fear himself, because what if Cas is lying to them, again? Putting on his game face, he strides past them back to the interrogation room to try as non-violent a tactic as he can manage to get something out of Tessa.

He tries for familiarity, hoping to establish a rapport, that she’ll want to open up to him. What does she personally have to gain? That’s when she tells him about what it’s like for a Reaper who can’t lead souls to Heaven. It all starts to make sense. Ever since he met Tessa, she’s been all about her job, making sure souls pass on. His one miserably failed day in Death’s shoes showed him why that’s so important. Dean can’t imagine what it must be like for her. But Cas giving her a reason to die? Still… After all they've been through, Cas has pulled some stupid stunts, but this…

What Tessa says is starting to get to him, because behind it all is that ring of truth, but if Cas isn’t recruiting them, who is? Why would they say Cas recruited them personally when Cas himself seemed actually disgusted by their behavior? When Tessa mentions there are others, he asks for names. When she refuses, Dean reveals the secret to why he was willing to enter a room with her, one-on-one.

From the back of his pants, he pulls the First Blade. Immediately, he feels the power and NEED start pulsing, radiating from the Mark. He sees the look of acceptance on Tessa’s face as she realizes they’re not so different after all. This is just before she shoves herself onto the Blade. Confused, he just looks at her, as she clasps his shoulders, thanks him, and pushes it deeper.

After the light of her death fades, he feels that rush, the exhilaration, warring with the sheer amount of - _what the fuck do I do now?_ \- panic over the fact that he’ll have to explain why Tessa is now dead. And sure enough, here comes the goon squad, and Hannah looks shocked, before her expression changes to disappointment and fear. For a brief moment, he wonders how many he can slice through before they take him down. But then he realizes just what that would do to Cas.

It takes quite a few angels and a bloody nose to subdue him anyway, because he refuses to give up the blade to these wingless dicks, but eventually they get him cuffed to a chair. He might have used a few choice words during the scuffle, so they duct tape his mouth shut as well. They lock him in the interrogation room after removing Tessa’s body, the feel of the kill still singing in his veins.

*****

The drive back to the angel base is subdued, and Cas reminds Sam of a kicked puppy. He wasn’t going to mention it, just in case, but to try to cheer Cas up, Sam mentions they might have found a way to free Gabe, at least enough so he can tell them how to stop Metatron and possibly free himself. This piques Cas’ interest, and the angel stares at him intently. Sam’s not as used to the laser-stare as Dean, and is soon shifting uncomfortably.

“What is it, Cas?”

“Sam, how is Gabriel when you see him, when he dreamwalks?”

Oh, well… He’s not sure how much he should tell Cas, without making him worry.

“Well, I’ve mentioned before that he’s been bound, so his powers are limited, and he can’t really tell me much, but… he looks like Gabe. He still likes sweet things, and he’s still full of his attitude.”

Castiel looks out the window thoughtfully, and they fall into silence. A few moments later, he speaks up again.

“Sam.”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I… Has Dean ever mentioned…”

He shifts in his seat, and looks uncomfortable.

“Has Dean ever mentioned what, Cas?”

“...Nevermind, Sam.”

 _For the love of_ … “Cas.”

The angel turns to look at him.

“I really don’t think you should be hiding things right now, considering everything going on with the suicide squad.”

Cas lets out a deep sigh, and is silent for a few beats.

“Sam, you know Dean and I share a profound bond.”

“Uh huh,” He nods, waiting for him to continue.

“And… well, I’m not sure if your brother would be comfortable with me telling you this.”

Sam’s eyebrows raise, and now he’s a little worried.

“Shit, Cas. If this involves Dean, you need to tell me.”

He hears Cas clear his throat, and shift uncomfortably some more.

“It’s not a bad thing, Sam, just… personal.”

Oh. _Oh!_ Has Dean finally admitted that he actually feels something for Cas? Now he’s gotta know.

“Why don’t you tell me, and I can be the judge of if it’s important?”

There’s another long pause before Cas speaks again.

“I’ve been Dreamwalking with Dean.”

_Is that all?_

“That’s not really that big of a deal, Cas. Jeez, you had me worried.”

Cas blinks at him blankly for a moment.

“Dean had given me no indication that you knew about our relationship.”

Sam loses control of the car a moment at that little bomb. He finds a relatively safe looking bit of road shoulder and pulls over, puts the car in park, and turns to Cas.

“RELATIONSHIP?!?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

“Oh, no. You can’t just tell me you and Dean… and then just drop the subject! Since when?”

The angel stares at his hands folded in his lap for a moment.

“The same night that Gabriel first contacted you.”

Suddenly, little things he’s noticed about Dean lately make total sense. Of course, the fact he’s hiding it is a douche move, but his brother is who he is, king of secrets apparently.

“Please, don’t say anything to Dean. After all, we’ve only had intercourse twice—”

“Whoa, back up. How? You guys have barely even been in a room alone together.”

He notices Cas swallow when he looks away, and thinks he knows the answer.

“Of course, it hasn’t technically been physical yet. I may have taken advantage of Dean’s lowered inhibitions while he’s been asleep.”

Cas’ shoulders slump, and he hangs his head.

“I’ll completely understand if you choose to punish me in some way for my indiscretion.”

Sam sits back in his seat and ponders this for a moment. Would he have ever gone as far with Gabe as quickly if it hadn’t been in a dream?

“No Cas, I don’t think badly of you for that. It may have been the only way to get Dean to finally admit his feelings for you.”

He wonders for a moment if he should Tell Cas about Gabe, and thinks perhaps right now might not be the time for that discussion.

“I’m not sure if he has admitted any feelings in particular. But…” The angel gets a faraway, dreamy look, “Dean’s more likely to express how he feels with actions.”

Alrighty then, this is quickly heading into TMI territory.

“Well Cas, I’m happy you guys are finding… some way to communicate, but we’ve still got a long road ahead of us, so…”

“I understand Sam, I’m taking it one day at a time, and not pushing for more than he’s willing to give.”

Sam puts the car in gear and pulls back onto the road.

“That’s great, Cas. Just keep doing that.”

Wow. He’s been watching those guys stare at each other and invade personal space for years, but he always figured Dean’s… machismo? pride? would never wear down enough to let Cas in. Although, the way he acted after Purgatory, he’d been sure they’d done more than just watch each other’s backs. But their dynamic had been strained soon afterwards, with Naomi, the tablet, and Metatron, there just wasn’t that much time.

When they’d brought a human Cas back to the bunker, Sam had thought that this is it, surely. Especially watching Dean’s reaction to Cas having sex. But no, Dean had to push him away, because Gadreel said so. In order to keep Sam alive.

Sam swears, as soon as this newest round of world-ending urgency is over, he and his brother really need to do something about the whole always-together thing. Dean’s always too willing to do stupid things to keep those he loves around him. He glances at Cas, who is studying a roadmap of Missouri. Lets just hope they can do something about Cas’ Grace before Dean does some new stupid thing.

They arrive back at the angel base to find it in an uproar, Tessa dead, and Dean locked up. The First Blade is wrapped in a piece of leather and sealed inside a cardboard box, because the angels were loathe to look at it, let alone touch it. Cas’ second-in command, Hannah, tries to explain to Cas what happened, but he firmly speaks over her, “Take me to him. Now.”

*****

When Castiel first sees Dean, nose bloodied, mouth taped, and cuffed to a chair, he has to pause for a moment, because he can feel the influence of the Mark and the recent kill coming off of him. _Oh, Dean, why are you doing this to yourself?_ Sam approaches his brother angrily, ripping the tape off his mouth and undoing the handcuffs. He has to ask him, hear it from the man himself what happened.

“They say you killed Tessa?”

He carefully watches Dean’s mannerisms for deceit as he explains what happened. While defensive about bringing the First Blade, it appears he didn’t actually mean to kill her. Castiel watches the two brothers work themselves into an argument, and he tells them to stop. He hears the door open behind him, and turns to see Hannah. Metatron has made contact. This can’t be good.

Castiel sees the scribe on a computer screen, through a video feed. Metatron immediately launches into insults, against both Dean and himself. Apparently another angel took action, aiming for Metatron this time. He’s still not sure who could be responsible for such actions. He denies Metatron’s allegations, and when he tries to explain the scribe’s transgressions, it all gets turned sideways. Metatron tries to play for sympathy, claiming what he was done was necessary. It sounds very similar to Castiel’s own excuses for what he has done in the past.

When Metatron offers amnesty to all angels if they choose to join him, to let him be their God, Castiel wonders why anyone would choose to follow him. Hannah voices the question. The scribe makes some valid points about needing a leader, and that’s when everything that Castiel has been trying to hold on to falls apart. He claims that Castiel is the one responsible for the suicide killings, and then asks slowly, so all can hear, if they know about his stolen Grace. Oh, no. He sees what Metatron is doing too late, as he makes a play to undermine Castiel’s authority.

Metatron continues, chipping away at what Castiel has built by mixing deceit and truth, saying he doesn’t care about the other angels, using his known weakness for the Winchesters against him. After basically destroying Castiel’s credibility, Metatron disconnects, and all the angels turn to him, their trust eroded by a few, simple words. Castiel tries to explain, but now that they know about the Grace, everything else seems plausible. As he looks at the angels facing him, all he can see is mistrust and doubt.

Turning to Hannah, his second-in-command, he asks, “You believe me, don’t you?”

But the damage has been done. She says they need proof, and in his eagerness, he thinks he’s willing to do anything to gain back their trust. But then Hannah demands the impossible. She says Castiel needs to “punish” Dean. Oh no, anything but that. Dean tries to leave but is restrained, as well as Sam. It comes down to one man versus the trust of his angel family. He can’t look at Dean, knowing the man already doubts him as well, afraid to see the look on his face.

As Hannah hands him the angel blade, claiming justice for the disrupted order, Castiel remembers with startling clarity a scene disturbingly similar with Naomi making him kill hundreds of facsimiles of Dean in an attempt to make it easier for him to do it for real when the time came. For a moment, when he looks into Dean’s face, sees the fear that he might actually do it, a hundred other dying Dean faces flash through his mind. He had broken through Naomi’s control when it came down to actually killing Dean then, and he certainly can’t… he just can’t even think of harming Dean. But he knows the consequence of denying this, and finds it hard to speak.

Finally, he finds his voice. “No.” He feels his heart sink, knowing this is the end of their fight. “I can’t.”

Sam and Dean look at him with confusion and relief on their faces, and the angels file out of the building. With all the angels gone, the building seems to echo with his disgrace. Dean turns to him.

“Dude, that was a close one. You really made me think you were gonna do something for a second.”

“Dean, I couldn’t do that to you. Not again, and not for such a reason.”

A warehouse full of dead Deans flashes through his thoughts. _Never again._

Sam asks, “What exactly did they mean by ‘punish’, Cas? I have a feeling it meant more than just a slap on the wrist.”

Castiel turns to Sam, knowing he will be upset by the answer, but owing him the truth. “I would have had to kill him, Sam. Punishment involves piercing through one’s Grace, and death. They would have expected no less of a result when punishing a human.”

Sam’s eyes go wide, and Deans says, “Then why the hell did it take you so long, Cas?”

Castiel closes his eyes and swallows before answering, “I was reminded of something Naomi had me do, back when we were looking for the tablets. It took me a moment to gather myself.”

Dean leans against the edge of a desk, as if deflating. Sam looks around awkwardly and offers to gather some things before they leave. Castiel nods then stares at the floor for a moment, feeling the tension in Dean build as they stand there in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter's mostly porn-ish, and slightly shorter than normal too.

Jesus fucking Christ, what a shitbomb this has been. Still a little stiff from his scuffle with the angels and being handcuffed in one position for so long, Dean flexes his arms slowly, stretching them. Cas is staring at the floor and looks like a kicked dog, just standing there. Dean turns to face away from the angel, a hand over the mark, when Cas finally speaks.

“Dean, I—”

He throws his hand up, silencing the angel before turning to look at him.

“Not a single word, Cas. Not one right now.”

Cas nods and looks into his eyes. He can’t stand to see the look of defeat on the angel’s face, and a thought occurs to him about how to make the expression go away. Silently, Dean grabs Cas by the coat sleeve and leads him to an open storage room. As soon as they’re both inside, Dean closes the door and presses Cas bodily against the wall.

“Are you sure that punishing me never once crossed your mind?”

He’s close enough to feel the angel’s warm breath on his face as Cas sighs, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“That’s the problem Dean. I did imagine it. Do you know what Naomi made me do? I never told you.”

He releases his grip on Cas, waiting for the answer and not quite sure he wants to know.

“She made me kill you hundreds of times, Dean. In over a hundred different ways; I was made to stab an angel blade into your heart, or break your neck, or other unspeakable horrors I’d rather not ever remember again. And do you know why? Because she knew you were my weakness, Dean.  Every time, the facsimile would plead for me to stop, and every time I had to kill you.”

He rasps the last words out. There’s so much pain behind Cas’ eyes right now, Dean doesn’t know how to deal with it and looks down at where his hands have a grip on Cas’ trenchcoat, and listens as Cas continues.

“Naomi brainwashed me, Dean. I had no control over my actions, and in the crypt, I fought her with all my strength. You finally reached me, and that is the only reason why I didn’t sink a blade into you then, because you broke through.” Cas whispers, “It’s always you.”

Dean’s heart is pounding hard in his chest. Cas broke that kind of control because of him?

“Shit, Cas. I didn’t—”

“So when Hannah handed me that blade, all those times I was forced to kill you surfaced in my mind, and I remembered that none of that had been real, because I could never do that, not to the real you. Because none of them had your soul, Dean.”

Wow. That’s a lot to take in all at once. Dean watches Cas swallow, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say the angel is about to cry. But angels don’t cry. Cas licks his lips, and Dean focuses on them, wondering if they taste the same in real life as they did in his dreams. He presses his body tighter to Cas’ then seals their lips together before he changes his mind.

Damn, Cas’ mouth is just as amazing as in his dreams, maybe even more so now that he knows it’s real. Delving deep into the taste of summer storms, he presses Cas against the wall with his own body, one hand on the angel’s waist, the other tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.Why has he been denying himself for so long? Cas clings to Dean’s shoulders like a drowning man, and Dean shifts his stance to have one knee press between the angel’s, and the needy noise that escapes Cas’ throat just makes him press in tighter, kiss harder, dig his fingers a little deeper into his hair, scratching at his scalp.

*****

Castiel is stunned at the level of sheer animalistic fervor coming from Dean, and it frightens him almost as much as it makes him feel hot all over. Dean, of his own free will, without the assistance of lowered inhibitions that a dream provides, pressing him against a wall. Kissing with a wild abandon that ignites his blood. The urges he’s been suppressing flare to life, and all he can do is cling to the man who is consuming him. He breathes deep the scent that is Dean, leather and oil and sweat and musk, now with a darker edge, a deeper and more dangerous note.

With Dean’s leg between his, he feels the rough press of denim against twill, a rock of hips pressing his growing erection into the hollow of Dean’s hip, and he can feel the responding arousal grinding against him. Unbidden, a whimpering noise escapes his throat, and it’s like a switch is flipped in Dean, grabbing harder, kissing deeper, pressing tighter. If Castiel were human, the pressure might actually be uncomfortable.

Dean, with his fingers tightening in his hair, yanks Castiel’s head to the side and starts sucking and biting along his neck and jaw. His other hand digs in hard enough into his side that it would leave finger-shaped bruises on an ordinary man. Torn between his desire and concern for Dean who appears to be spiraling out of control,  Castiel places his hands firmly against the man’s shoulders and pushes, calling out Dean’s name. He gets a snarl in response, and Dean just bites and sucks harder at his skin. Something’s wrong. Firmly grasping Dean’s wrists, he pushes him away, and looks at him with concern, while Dean stares back darkly, hungrily.

“What’s the matter, Cas? Don’t you want me?” Dean licks his lips and looks the him up and down, making him shiver.  “Or can you only get off in the dream world?”

Castiel closes his eyes, organizing his thoughts against the arousal Dean makes him feel. He opens his eyes when he feels Dean shift and looks down to see the man on his knees, hands working at Castiel’s belt, then the button and zip of his slacks.

“Dean, what are you…”

With a smirk, Dean palms Castiel’s erection through his boxers, making him gasp.

“Proving that my inhibitions don’t need lowering as much as you think they do.”

With a defiant look, he frees Castiel’s cock, wrapping his hand around the shaft and stroking it with determined precision. The dark gleam behind the man’s eyes makes him shiver, but the stroking is too much, and he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling at the pleasure.

“Dean…”

He feels the tip of Dean’s tongue brush across the head, and his hips stutter forward. Remembering how, even in a dream, Dean had been reluctant to do this before, Castiel rocks his head forward to watch as Dean wraps his lips around the swollen head, still stroking with his fist. Biting back a cry at the sensation of Dean’s mouth, the heat of it, he takes a moment to speak.

“You don’t have to do this,” he gasps, and sees Dean look up at him, lips pursing as he slips back off of his cock.

“Maybe I want to,” the man growls, reaching down to palm his own erection before popping open the fly of his jeans.

Castiel watches as Dean pulls out his own cock, stroking it in time with the other hand on his. With a smirk, he looks up through his lashes before swirling his tongue around the spit-slickened shaft, then sucks him back in. The sensation is more than he expected. With a low groan, Castiel thumps his head back against the wall, no longer willing to try to control his body’s reactions. Dean does something with his tongue that makes him gasp, and suddenly he hears Sam calling for them.

“Hey guys? Where’d you go?”

He tenses up, Dean’s mouth stills, and his hand squeezes tightly around the base of Castiel’s erection. When Castiel looks down, Dean locks eyes with him and slowly shakes his head side to side, mouth still wrapped around him. When Castiel nods his understanding, Dean scrapes his teeth lightly along the edge of his head. The motion makes him start to moan and he jams the knuckles of his hand into his mouth to dampen the sound. Castiel feels guilt for telling Sam about them, but being told and witnessing are two different things, and Dean would be upset if they were discovered. So he keeps his fist to his mouth, the fingers of his other hand straining against the concrete wall at his back as Dean pulls him deeper and deeper.

When Dean moans quietly with his own arousal, fist still pumping along his own cock, Castiel feels the vibrations and his knees go weak. So close. Dean’s pace changes, as he opens his mouth wider and slides Castiel’s cock all the way down to the base. Gasping and hips bucking, he can feel his orgasm closing in, building and cresting like a wave. Dean swallows around him and it breaks him, orgasm flowing through his body and he stops breathing, afraid of what noises might come out while he spasms in pleasure.

Light-headed and weak-kneed, Castiel removes the hand from his mouth and sags against the wall, feeling Dean grunt and groan around his softening cock as he finds his own release, shooting onto the wall and floor between Castiel’s feet. Dean releases Castiel’s cock and it cools in the air as Dean leans back, sitting on his heels and catching his breath. Looking down, Castiel sees Dean’s flushed face and neck, watches as the man’s heavily dilated pupils return to normal size, notices the way Dean swipes at the edges of his mouth with his thumb. Tongue between his teeth, Dean faces Castiel, then rocks forward to stand before him, tracing the angel’s lips with the same thumb he used to wipe his mouth.

“Open up, babe.”

Obediently, Castiel opens his mouth for Dean to slide his thumb in, and he tastes his own ejaculate combined with Dean’s saliva. He looks him in the eye the entire time. When Dean deems the digit thoroughly cleaned, he pulls it out, then tucks himself away and zips up his jeans.

“We should get going, before Sam starts really looking for us.”

He turns and heads to the door with a casual air, as if they hadn’t just had a sexual encounter in a storage room. When the door closes behind him, Castiel realizes he’s still standing against a wall, trousers sagging around his thighs, spent cock lying limply above the waistband of his boxers.

Quickly putting himself back in order, Castiel pauses at the door, making sure that he won’t be seen exiting. When he walks back into the main room, Dean’s casually leaning against a desk, arms and ankles crossed. Sam is picking up a bag Castiel keeps packed for travel, and turns to face him.

“You good to go?”

Not trusting his voice, he merely nods, watching the boys lead the way out of what had recently been a stronghold of angelic freedom. Outside, Dean strides to the driver’s side of the Impala and climbs in, slamming the door. Sam and Castiel exchange glances before getting in. Dean starts the car and pulls away from the building, headed home. They drive most of the trip in uncomfortable silence.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to board the Pain Train, folks!  
> One POV you will **not ******see in this chapter is Dean's.  
>  This wraps up Season 9, and the next work will deal with what happens after with Dean, Sam, and the angels.

Gadreel steps out of Metatron’s office, scowling. He is incensed, disgusted, and now knows that Castiel was completely correct about the scribe. Deceived, again. It seems that is his role in existence, to continuously do the wrong thing. Gadreel had thought healing Sam Winchester would have started a road to redemption, but instead it led to deceit.

At first, it was just a simple name, knowing if anyone knew who he really was, they would never trust him. Then, he was afraid Castiel would discover his secret and cast him out. So he made Dean choose between brother and angel. Then Metatron found him, with promises of true redemption in the eyes of all. He could become more than just a disgrace. But no. Just as it had been with Lucifer, he was too trusting of the words, the possibility, to see the true intent.

Maybe… Perhaps he can still fix this. Castiel had offered him a way out. Everything Castiel had said was the truth. That, and Sam Winchester’s own feelings toward Castiel help Gadreel in his decision. If they could meet again, and he could explain…

With a clear goal in mind, Gadreel strides past the desks of other angels, past the side corridor that leads to where Gabriel is confined, and toward where he can exit this space and be on his way to locating Castiel. Once on the ground, his first stop is the building where Castiel held his operations. Finding it abandoned, but only just recently, he heads in the direction of where he knows the Winchesters call home. He somehow manages to arrive before them, and hides his vehicle around a bend of the road before crouching down near the entrance to await their arrival.

Gadreel doesn’t wait long before the Impala rumbles up to the door and Dean, Sam, and Castiel climb out. He watches a silent argument between Castiel and Dean, as the man seems insistent on carrying both their bags, before Castiel gives up and follows Sam to the door. Metatron had said Castiel was in love with humanity, and he hadn’t been paying attention before, but he can now clearly see that at least one human returns that affection— if the man holding two bags and following behind Castiel is any indication. While Gadreel still has much to learn about body language and facial expressions, it’s clear even to him how Dean feels.

While Sam holds open the door, the other two enter, before Sam starts closing the door behind him. Quietly dashing from the bushes, Gadreel pushes out just enough Grace to keep the latch from engaging when the heavy metal door slams shut. Trying to not make any noise, he slowly opens the door and slips inside. At the top of the stairs, he pauses, listening to Sam and Dean argue before the taller man storms off. After Dean goes to sit down with Castiel, Gadreel makes his way down the stairs with the least amount of noise possible.

Sam had mentioned a blade, one that could kill Metatron? Perhaps there is a way out of this after all. He can hear Dean and Castiel’s voices coming from the next room, the connection between them palpable. Just as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Sam comes back into the room and alerts the others to his presence. Raising his hands defensively, Gadreel swears he’s not there to fight, that he’s there to help stop Metatron. He glances at each of them; Castiel looks wary and defeated, Dean appears ready to run him through, and Sam, off to the side and skirting the room, looks terrified. How can he blame them, after everything he’s put them through?

The man that had once housed him is the first to speak, “And we should trust you, why?”

Gadreel looks at Sam, desperately wishing he could change things, seeing the man’s face show a mix of fear and hatred.

“Because I can give him to you. I know where Metatron is. I know everything.”

Dean still looks murderous, and so Gadreel says that he knows about the bombers, that they were Metatron’s. Sorrow fills his heart at the fates of those he has recruited, and he sees Castiel’s expression fall as well, knowing they wasted their lives. He knows they still don’t trust him, and  says so. He’s made mistakes, but so have they. All of them have. He thinks he sees Sam’s expression soften slightly.

“At least give me a chance.”

The brothers exchange a look, and the air hangs heavy with tension. Castiel has obviously given up his role as leader, glancing to Dean for his decision. Never taking his eyes off Gadreel, Dean’s expression shifts, becomes a little more open before he steps forward, until he’s only a few feet away. Then, he slowly extends an outstretched left hand. Looking down at it, Gadreel thinks this is it, they can work together, and clasps it, with the fleeting thought, _don’t humans usually shake with the right hand_?

When he glances back up at Dean, he sees the man’s expression change again, and from behind Dean swings his right hand, a crude blade slashing across Gadreel’s chest. The light of his Grace erupts painfully, and he collapses against a pillar as the other two hold Dean back as he lets out a primal roar of rage. Through the haze of pain, Gadreel supposes he deserves this, after everything he’s done. Sam forces Dean to let go of the blade, and Dean glances down at Gadreel, the bloodrage still in his eyes. As Castiel hauls Dean backwards from the room, Gadreel clutches his chest as his consciousness dims.

He comes to moments later, the room now empty. Vessel damaged and bleeding from the gash in his chest, he stumbles his way up the steps and out the door, dragging himself into his car and not making it far before he drives into a ditch. Weakened by the loss of Grace and blood, Gadreel drags himself as far into a field as he can before collapsing under the shade of a tree, hoping to die in peace.

The sound of Metatron’s voice revives him, and he listens, afraid of what the new god might be planning next. Every deity needs followers to maintain power, and angels won’t be enough. If he’s been using Gabriel to maintain his current levels, he’ll need another source soon, if the condition of the bound archangel the last time Gadreel saw him was any indication. If he’s leaving Heaven, it must be to go and convince humanity to worship him.

When he sees that Castiel and Sam Winchester have caught up with him, he is afraid of what they might do to him, and swears he’ll leave them alone. Instead, Castiel tries to heal him? No, how can he take from him when he has so little Grace left, weakening him further? But without hesitation, Castiel presses two fingers to Gadreel’s forehead, healing the slash on his chest and nearly collapsing as a result.

He has to know if Castiel heard … “Did you hear him?”

Castiel confirms, and asks what Metatron wants. Gadreel explains what he believes to be the plan to gain the worship of humanity. Sam helps him stand, still keeping his distance while offering a hand. During the short ride back to the bunker, they discuss the possibilities of Metatron gaining any more power. Gadreel thinks of mentioning the tablet and Gabriel, but holds back, not quite sure if he should divulge that just yet.

*****

Back in the bunker, the first thing Sam notices is the smell of sulfur. The second is that the First Blade is missing. No. Did Dean really make a deal just to get out of the dungeon? There’s only one demon Dean would possibly go to for this.

“Crowley,” he growls, grabbing his phone and hitting speed dial, hoping Dean answers.

Castiel paces worriedly, and Gadreel stands by the desk, tense. When Sam gets Dean’s voicemail, he leaves a message, pleading for Dean to be reasonable. As he hangs up, Cas asks if he’s sure it’s Crowley. But who else could it be? Especially the way they’ve been acting together since Dean got the Mark. Gadreel seems confused about the Mark, and Castiel explains it’s the Mark of Cain. Realization dawns on the angel’s face, and he suddenly appears hopeful.

As Gadreel explains that this may be their best opportunity to deal with Metatron, Sam grows incredulous. Didn’t they just lock him up for his own safety? When Cas seems to agree with the other angel, Sam can’t believe his own ears. Cas, who just recently confessed that he and Dean have some kind of… thing going on, is now willing to use Dean? So much can go wrong with this plan, and it involves using Dean as a tactical missile.

He voices his doubts, but Gadreel counters, “Your brother won’t be in this alone. We can help.”

“How?”

Gadreel says he believes Metatron’s using the Angel Tablet as a power-up, and Sam knows there’s more to it than that. Can he trust Gadreel enough to ask about Gabe? The angel confirms what they have already suspected, that Metatron wants to be God. With the tablet and Gabriel’s powers, he’s basically unstoppable.

When Sam says so, minus the part about Gabe, Cas speaks up next, picking up on the omission and mentioning finding a way to break the connection. He asks Gadreel, “Where’s the tablet?”

“Metatron’s office.”

“In Heaven?”

Oh, Jeez. Yeah, like that helps. Gadreel says he can get them in, but then what? How will they react when he shows up with Cas? It will never work. Cas says they have to try, as it will be their best chance of stopping Metatron. Gadreel turns to Cas, and asks if they can speak privately. Immediately, Sam’s defenses go up, and Cas says if there’s something he needs to say, then Sam can hear it as well.

After looking between Sam and Cas, Gadreel finally says, “There is more than just the tablet. It is merely a conduit for the true power source.”

The angel glances at Cas, and doesn’t continue until he receives a nod. “Metatron has acquired a powerful angel who somehow still has full capability, and is using the tablet to tap into them.”

“Gabriel,” Sam breathes.

Gadreel narrows his eyes at Sam, “How—?”

“Gabriel has found a way to contact us,” Cas explains, “But his ability to communicate anything pertinent to his imprisonment has been hindered.”

Sam steps in front of Gadreel, looking him straight in the eye for the first time and says forcefully, “Do you know where they’re holding him?”

When the angel nods, he has to control his reaction to avoid sagging in relief. “Which is the least heavily guarded, Gabe or the tablet?”

“The tablet.”

Sam closes his eyes, clenching his jaw and breathing through his nose, trying to remain calm. If they can get to the tablet, maybe they can get to Gabe as well? Cas places a hand on his shoulder, and he opens his eyes to see the weakened angel looking at him with sympathy.

“Once the connection is severed and Metatron is defeated, we should be able to free Gabriel as well.”

Before they split up, Sam asks how they might find Metatron. Gadreel mentions he will want followers, and that will require exposure. So perhaps he should keep an eye on news sources. Sam hates that answer, because it means waiting for someone to actually report something, and for it to be big enough to gain public attention.

When Gadreel says they should get underway towards the current door to Heaven, Cas tells him to wait and pulls Sam off to the side.

“I have an idea.”

Sam looks back at him curiously. “Okay?”

“Where are the inscribed handcuffs?”

*****

Gadreel and Castiel make a stop at the old angel stronghold to pick up Castiel’s car, since Gadreel’s is so bloodstained. On the way to Heaven’s door, they drive in relative silence, both mulling over their own thoughts. Gadreel gives directions, and eventually they arrive at a small playground, a mother watching over her child on a swing. Castiel looks back at Gadreel incredulously. A playground? But the other angel insists that the two watching over it are among Metatron’s most loyal, and asks about Castiel’s plan to get them in.

Castiel grins, pulls the inscribed handcuffs from his pocket, and says, “Wookie.”

Of course, Gadreel doesn’t get the Star Wars reference, and after a brief attempt at explaining, Castiel gives up. He explains the plan, having Gadreel place the handcuffs around his wrists. As Gadreel leads him to the other angels, Castiel hopes this works.

There’s a brief discussion between Gadreel and the other angels, before he convinces them to re-draw the doorway. So far, their ruse seems to be working, Curiously, Castiel watches as the angel in the child’s vessel draws a design in a sandbox. Metatron’s Cube. The arrogant scribe would of course use a symbol containing his own name as the basis of the key for the door to Heaven.

As the symbol is completed, it begins to glow with swirling energy, and Gadreel guides Castiel toward the center. They’re engulfed with light, before appearing in what seems to be an ordinary elevator. There’s a ding as the last of the energy fades away, and the doors open, Gadreel pushing him forward. They walk past angels at desks, lined up along the walls of a small office space. They’re met by Hannah and another angel, Ingrid. They’re led into what appears to be Metatron’s office, but it quickly changes into a prison.

Hannah, once so loyal, stares at him coldly and silently through the bars before following Ingrid, leaving them alone. Gadreel doesn’t react well to being thrown back into a cell, and Castiel’s hopes crumble. This was not part of the plan.

*****

Sam wakes up, disoriented, lying in the gravel, face sore where Dean clocked him. Groaning, he rolls over and gets on his hands and knees in an effort to reorient enough to get upright. He knows Dean’s going to try to do this all on his own. Dean thought he couldn’t see the way he looked while touching the blade in the Impala’s trunk. Why can’t his brother just let him help? Why does he think he has to do everything himself?

Reaching out for the bumper of the Impala, Sam slowly pulls himself upright. And that’s when the realization hits him. Dean left his Baby behind. Oh, God. He’s not expecting to come back from this. He makes it into the driver’s seat, and focuses on getting to the homeless encampment, hoping that he makes it in time.

He slams the car in park as soon as he can see where the homeless have taken over an abandoned factory, and doesn’t even think to close his door as he rushes, gun in hand, to try to find Dean. Down metal steps, and he’s surrounded by homeless. They come to him, and he pulls his gun, unsure what their motives might be. He just needs to reach his brother.

“Stay back!” He cocks the hammer, waving his weapon around. “Stay back!”

Sam can hear their frightened voices, mumbling as they back away. “Where’s Metatron?”

They shift nervously and he becomes impatient, waving his gun around threateningly. “Where is he!”

Someone points towards the building, and Sam takes off. He’s gotta make it in time, he just has to. Before he manages to shoot himself in the foot, he thumbs the hammer back into position and shoves the gun at the small of his back, dashing into the building. The deeper he goes into the building, the more he prays he’s not too late. Just when he thinks he’s on the wrong floor, he hears the sounds of fighting and all-out sprints.

As he turns the corner, he sees them. Dean, on the floor and bloody, legs out before him, Blade in hand. And Metatron, bringing his angel blade down, sinking it into Dean’s chest. Even from this distance, he can hear the gasp from Dean’s lips. No, _nonononono_. Not Dean, not his brother. It’s not supposed to happen this way.

“NO!” He cries, body frozen as he watches Metatron twist, then pull the bloodied angel blade from Dean’s chest.

Dean stares blankly for a moment, before turning toward the sound, and the look on his face. God, the expression, younger than he’s seen in years, like he hadn’t wanted his baby brother to witness this. Sam watches as Dean’s body slips to one side, and finally he can move, paralysis broken as he hurries to his brother’s side.

No, not this, it can’t be as bad as it looks, that was not a spurt of arterial blood when Metatron had pulled the blade free. It just wasn’t. Reaching Dean, “Hey, heyheyheyhey, hey,” he pulls him into a sitting position, and then doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Dean’s a bloody mess, where does he start? Just then, the ground trembles, and he knows that Cas found a way to break the connection, that Metatron isn’t godlike anymore.

Blind with rage, Sam draws the angel blade tucked in his jacket, and swings it at the angel. Who promptly disappears. Not knowing what else to do, he drops to his knees at Dean’s side, and tries to find a way to fix this. To fix his brother. Pulling a bandana from a pocket, he presses it to the wound in Dean’s chest, barely hearing his brother telling him to run away.

“Shh, shh-shutup. Just, save your energy, alright?”

Dammit, there’s too much blood, too much… He pulls Dean’s own hand up to press against the wound.

“We’ll stop the bleeding, we’ll… we’ll get you to a doctor,  or, or, we’ll find a spell, you’re gonna be okay!”

_He’s gotta be okay. I can’t go through this again_.

Dean’s having trouble holding his head up and tries to focus on Sam. “Listen to me,” he grates out, “It’s better this way.”

“What?” Dean’s not making sense, Sam thinks.

Voice full of pain and emotion, Dean continues, “The Mark. It’s making me into something I don’t wanna be.”

But Sam doesn’t want to hear that, that would mean admitting defeat, that there’s nothing else they can do. He tells his brother to not worry about that, to just hold on so they can get help. Carefully, he pulls Dean’s arms around his shoulders, and pulls at his waist, feeling the weight of his brother’s body as he struggles to pull him upright, encouraging him to get up.

Finally getting Dean standing, arm around his shoulders, he clamps his own arm around Dean’s waist as he half carries, half drag-walks Dean from the building. He’ll be able to patch him up, get him to a hospital, they can fix this. Please, God, they can fix this. He presses his other hand over Dean’s, holding  the now blood-soaked bandana over his chest wound. Dean asks about him having said he was okay with this, and Sam admits he lied.

“Well ain’t that a bitch,” Dean croaks, as Sam keeps propelling him towards an exit.

Come on, just a little farther, Sam thinks, Dean getting heavier in  his arms as he weakens. Dean gasps for Sam to hold up, and so he carefully leans him against a piece of equipment, checking him over and keeping him upright with a firm hand on his shoulder. He can see blood welling from Dean’s mouth as he struggles to take a breath.

“I gotta say something,” Dean slurs, trying to focus on Sam’s face.

“What?” Seriously, what could be more important that getting out of here and to a doctor?

Dean’s hand claps him on the shoulder, eyes locking on to his. “I’m proud of us,” he says, his voice as strong as he can make it, and he claps Sam’s cheek.

Sam desperately tries to hold back tears, because that’s something Dean would say right before it’s over. Dean’s eyes lose focus, and the hand slips from Sam’s cheek before Dean falls forward onto his chest. Arms wrapping protectively around his brother, Sam swallows the tears trying to escape.

“Oh, nono, heyheyheyhey… Hey, hey. Wake up buddy.”

Grasping Dean’s face, he tries to look him in the eye. But his eyes are closed. Dammit, Dean, open your eyes!

“Hey, Dean…” No, nononono. “DEAN!”

But his eyes are closed, and they won’t open. No, Dean has to open his eyes! He’s gotta get to a doctor or something. Tears finally escape, rolling down his cheeks as he realizes that is the last thing his brother ever said to him. _I’m proud of us._ Pressing Dean’s face to his shoulder, he wraps his other arm tightly around him and sobs. _Dean, no, please no_. He sobs until he can’t even make noise anymore, breathless.

_My brother is gone_.

Eventually, Sam’s sobbing abates enough for him to draw a shaky breath. _Gotta get Dean out of here, gotta bring him home_. With single-minded determination, he lifts his brother’s lifeless body into a fireman’s hold, and trudges outside, past the gaping crowd of homeless, and to the Impala, waiting with the driver’s door still open. He leans Dean’s body against the car as he manages to open the trunk and pull out a spare blanket, which he carefully spreads across the back seat of the car. Because Dean will get mad if Sam gets stains on his Baby.

Sam remembers doing this before, after the Hellhounds had gotten to his brother, chest shredded, and so much blood, even more than now. Carefully, he manages to fit his brother into the car, reclining as if sleeping across the seat. Tears still running down his face, he finds a cloth, wiping it gently across Dean’s face, trying to remove the drying blood. He uses a bottle of water to dampen the cloth, and wipes until he can see the cuts and bruises, livid against the pallid skin. Gently closing the car’s door, he climbs into the driver’s seat and rests his head on the steering wheel. After a few moments, he wipes his eyes, sets his jaw, and cranks the engine before turning the Impala back towards home.

*****

Castiel sits in Metatron’s office, staring blankly at the jumble of broken tablet at his feet. Metatron’s words echo through his head, _Guess what? He’s dead too_. His gaze shifts to the angel blade in his hand, completely coated in blood. Human blood. Dean’s blood. No. Dean can’t be dead. It’s a trick, one can never trust what Metatron says. Focus. Time to find Gabriel.

Very few of Metatron’s angels seem to know much more than the duties they were assigned, but a couple remember guard duty over a rogue angel, one that Metatron or Gadreel would visit, but they never checked inside to see who the angel was. Castiel has them lead the way to the locked steel door covered in sigils, and when he opens it, he can’t believe the state his brother is in. He’s almost completely curled around himself, slumped over in a circle of burning holy oil. His wings, once a beautiful burnished gold, now hang dark and limp from his shoulders, bound tightly with glowing wire. He calls for the fire to be put out, and as soon as it is, he attacks the sigils and wards, breaking the spells that bind Gabriel here. Falling on his knees in front of the archangel, Castiel reaches forward, cupping Gabriel’s cheek.

“Brother?”

Slowly, Gabriel raises his head, eyes dull and lifeless behind the stringy hair dangling from his forehead. He blinks once before managing to look Castiel in the eye.

“Cuh… Cas?” His voice sounds dusty, like he hasn’t properly used it in months.

Carefully, Castiel undoes the shackles from Gabriel’s wrists, reaches to begin undoing the binding on Gabriel’s wings.

“I’ve come to set you free.”

With the assistance of other angels, Castiel slowly draws Gabriel to his feet and helps him out of his prison. The archangel can barely make it more than a few steps before his legs give out from under him. Castiel calls for a chair, and as soon as one appears, he’s pushing Gabriel into it.

“Please, rest. You’ve been immobile for some time, and greatly weakened. It may take some time.”

Gabriel looks up into Castiel’s face, tired and sad. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, “He told me... it was the only way.”

Palming the back of Gabriel’s neck, Castiel looks him in the eye. “I understand. Sam told me what he could about your situation. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

Gabriel looks panicked, and he tries to stand. “Sam! Oh, Sammy, I gotta get to him. He’s… oh, no. You gotta come with me, Castiel. We—”

His legs give out from under him, and it takes two angels to keep him from collapsing to the floor. Castiel helps him sit again.

“Is Sam alright? What about Dean? Metatron said…” Castiel can’t help but again feel the stab of pain he felt when he was told Dean was dead. “He said…”

It’s Gabriel’s turn to grasp Castiel by the back of the neck, and he presses their foreheads together. “I’m so sorry little brother. That’s why we gotta get down there. If what I’ve heard is true, we’re in for a world of trouble.”

He pushes Castiel back and waves at one of the angels watching over him. “Can we move the location of the door without Metatron?”

The angel looks at him wide-eyed and slack jawed. “Umm, I…”

“Go. Find someone who does know, and get back to me.”

He turns to another angel, watching from the end of the hallway. “You, find a Healer and bring them here.”

Grabbing Castiel’s arm, Gabriel pulls himself up, and aims himself down the hall. “You stay with me, bucko. We got things to do, people to see.” When they get to the end of the hallway and he sees the grouping of angels at desks, all milling around, he calls, “Anyone have some candy around here?”

*****

Sam sits in the Bunker’s library, finishing off the last of the whiskey he’d abandoned during his attempt to try to summon Crowley. He had wondered at first why the summoning hadn’t worked, until he checked on Dean’s body, to find him missing. With it gone, he can only assume it’s been possessed. When he finds that damn pompous bag of smoke he’s gonna… he’s gonna… A sob rips through him, because now he doesn’t even have a body to bury. He hadn’t even considered a Hunter’s funeral, so sure he could find a way of bringing Dean back. Now, with his brother’s body in the wind, likely with a random demon all up in it, Crowley's got him over a barrel. Because he would do anything to bring his brother back. That time he told Dean he wouldn’t, he’d honestly believed it then. But now…

He lifts the whiskey bottle to find it empty, and throws it at the wall, where it shatters. The bottle hadn’t been full when he’d gotten a hold of it, but had been enough to at least numb the pain he felt to make it bearable. With a sigh, he slumps down and rests his head on the cool wood of the table. Once again, he prays to Gabriel, hoping he can still hear it, hoping he hasn’t lost him, too. Closing his eyes, Sam lets the feeling of the alcohol in his system dull everything for a short time.

———

Sam has no idea how long he’s been sitting there, his head on the desk, when he hears the steel door slam shut. There’s a moment of disorientation before everything comes back to him. That’s not Dean coming back from a supply run. Not even caring who it could be, if it might be someone coming to finish him off, he rolls his head to the side, watching the doorway with gritty eyes. Voices echo in the adjoining room, and Cas’ voice calls out for him. Oh yeah, Cas is gonna lose his shit. Feeling strangely disconnected from everything, Sam manages to grunt a response.  With a sigh, he wonders how to tell the angel.

What he’s not expecting is Gabriel to be the first through the doorway, to come over to him and wrap him up in a tight hug. Surprised, he finds the energy to bring his arms up and grasp the back of the angel’s jacket.

“Is this a dream, Gabe? Because if it is, it’s a shitty one.”

Gabriel leans back, wiping the hair out of Sam’s eyes, looking him over. “No, it’s all me, Castiel did it, he got me out, Sam.”

The angel leans back, holding Sam’s face in his hands before kissing him on the forehead and wrapping him up in his embrace again. Sam looks up to see Cas standing off to the side, realization dawning on his face. A small, sad smile flickers briefly, before he collapses into a chair himself. When Sam asks, “And Gadreel?” Cas looks off to the side, and he knows the angel who had possessed him hadn’t made it.

Eventually, Sam pulls back from Gabe and looks between him and Cas. “Guys, Dean… He’s…”

Gabe shakes his head, “We know, Sam. I heard you cry out when…” Gabe can’t seem to finish that as he watches Sam’s face crumple. It’s still too raw, too fresh.

Cas leans forward and asks, “Where is the body, Sam?” His voice not much more than a hoarse whisper.

Closing his eyes, Sam grates out, “It’s gone, I… tried summoning Crowley. Yeah, it was stupid, but I needed to do something. When it didn’t work, I went to go check, and he was just… gone.” His voice cracks on the last word, and tears tickle the backs of his eyes again.

After a deep breath, he looks up at Cas. “Please tell me he’s in Heaven. Tell me he didn’t get sent back…”

When Cas looks down and to the side, the pain so clear on his face, Sam just can’t take it anymore.  Fingers pulling at his hair, he lets out a primal wail. “You can get him out again, right? Like last time?”

Gabriel holds Sam’s face, turns him to look at him. “It’s not that easy, kiddo. Dean died with the Mark. Was he holding the blade, Sam?”

Unable to speak, Sam nods. Gabriel’s lips are in a tight line, and he glances at Cas who whispers a broken “No.”

“Sam,” Gabriel brushes a thumb across a cheek, wiping at the tracks of his fresh tears. “Dean… when he died, the Mark of Cain…” He takes a breath, “It turned him into a… _The_ Knight of Hell.”

A lump forms in Sam’s throat. No. Dean didn’t want that, it’s why he was okay with dying. He didn’t want to be what the Mark was turning him into. Dammit! He watches as Cas storms out of the room, head lowered.

*****

Castiel can’t listen to this any more. Dashing out of the library, he blindly makes his way to the doorway of Dean’s room. The door isn’t closed all the way, and Castiel places his hand on the wood, letting it swing open. Inside, he can see the crumpled and bloodstained bedcovers where Sam must have laid Dean’s body. The smell of sulfur lingers in the air here. He lets his feet take him to the back wall, where a shelf holds mementos of Dean’s adventures. Wooden implements, a bag of salt, an old radio. On the wall to his left are weapons, and Castiel reaches up to touch the obsidian blade Dean had used in Purgatory.

Feeling wetness roll down his face, Castiel wipes at his cheek. Looking at the moisture on his hand, he realizes he’s crying. Legs weak, he collapses into the chair near the foot of the bed. Dear Father, why must they suffer so?

When he had thought Dean merely dead, Castiel would have been content to just let the Grace drain from his body, to cease existing. But now, knowing that Dean is once again held in the clutches of the forces of Hell, he wants so badly to do anything he can to bring him back. But how? As far as he knows, there’s no cure for becoming a Knight of Hell, no way to remove the influence of the Mark of Cain.

With a wail, Castiel places his face in his hands and cries. Cries for the Righteous Man, the one he pulled from Perdition, the one he defied Heaven and fell for. The one for whom he always came when called, who always forgave, who sought him out in Purgatory when Castiel didn’t believe he was worth it. He cries for Dean Winchester, the man who taught an angel love.


End file.
